


A True Hero...?

by Minunlike



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), M/M, domestic AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 22:38:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13086879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minunlike/pseuds/Minunlike
Summary: "A detective... can't save anyone. I'm only useful after it's too late."





	A True Hero...?

**Author's Note:**

> okay this one is kind of based on a little domestic au scenario I posted on tumblr a while ago. here's that post: http://marisexmas.tumblr.com/post/168139808124/consider-the-following-a-domestic-saiouma-au
> 
> but it's also kind of based on a quote from shuichi ingame because?? this boy is so broken up about his talent and it Hurts me. so... I wanted to write a fic about it, and it turned into this
> 
> it's mostly just fluff, it's not super deep or anything but. here it is nonetheless ;;v;;

For the entire car ride home, the events of the latest case keep playing on repeat over and over in your head.

 _The mangled, grisly state of the young girl's corpse._  
_The mother's grief-stricken screams and sobs when she saw her daughter’s lifeless body on the autopsy table._  
_The utterly remorseless, shit-eating grin of the pig who killed her, the way he laughed it all off as you spent countless hours grilling him in that dingy interrogation room._  
_The hollow, listless stares her parents gave you when it was over, even after the culprit had been sentenced to life in prison and led away in handcuffs._

“God, what a shitshow…”

Your partner occasionally mumbles to himself behind the wheel, but you're not really listening. Those stares still haunt your mind, and they’re the only thing you can think about at the moment. The case may be over and done with for you, but for them...?  

_Their lives have been destroyed forever. Someone they loved and protected and cherished with all their hearts was taken from them, and nothing anyone can say or do will ever bring her back-_

_'.... ..!!'_

The car comes to an abrupt halt, throwing you forward and snapping you out of your thought train.

"Haha, sorry about that..." your partner laughs sheepishly. "But, uh... this is the place, right...?"

You look through the window, recognizing the familiar walls of your apartment complex, and give a dull nod. Silently, you grab your things and step out of the car.

Your partner calls after you, but his voice is muffled and distant to your ears.

"Good work today, Saihara. Get some sleep, okay? You seriously look like you need it..."

You nod again with an 'mhm' as you hear him drive off, and prepare yourself for the four flights of stairs standing between you and home. At last, after what seems like a painful eternity, you reach the door of your apartment and start fumbling with your keys, eager to get out of the bone-chilling December cold.

The house is still and silent when you enter, other than the nighttime sounds from outside and the low hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. It's a silence you've come home to so many times, but after what you've been through today, it gives you a mild, unpleasant feeling of wariness.

You shake it off and head straight for the fridge. _Just a beer or two before bed_ , you think to yourself... just to calm your nerves and quiet the thoughts still racing through your head.

You flick a light on so that you can read while you drink. You look around for a bit, taking note of how neat and tidy the small living room is. It's a stark contrast from the way you left it this morning, notebooks and memos and sheets of paper scattered everywhere...

_'...Guess he decided to do a bit of cleaning today.'_

You settle down in your reading chair and enjoy one of your mystery novels for a while, just until you're finished with your beer. _Just one beer before bed tonight_ , you tell yourself, _just one_. The sooner you can get yourself to bed, the better.

The sooner you can put this whole horrendous mess of a case behind you, the better it will be for you and everyone else.

After a few chapters, you close your book, toss your beer can in the trash, and drag yourself toward the bedroom. In your mind, you're already instinctively bracing yourself for the worst, no matter how unlikely you know it is. You've been bracing yourself for the worst for so long over the past couple months, it's the only thing your mind seems to ever do right now.

But sure enough, when you open the door, everything's fine... the bedroom is clean and orderly. No blood, no guts, no corpses, no torn furniture or splintered wood or broken glass. Just the muted traffic noises from the streets outside... and the sound of soft snoring.

Kokichi… your husband is already in bed, sound asleep.

You let out a small sigh of relief, and start getting ready for bed yourself. You do your best to change into your nightclothes as quietly as possible, difficult as that is in your tipsy state, and you slide carefully under the sheets beside him. Making yourself comfortable, you stare up at the ceiling and listen to the calm, peaceful sounds around you.

And all at once, it all catches up to you again.

_That gruesome murder. The terror she must have felt in her last moments. The sorrow her family is surely feeling right now, right at this very moment. Your complete and total powerlessness to stop any of it._

_Why..._

_Why did it have to be like this?_

_Why couldn't you have done something to stop it?_

_Why couldn't you do anything to make their lives better again...?_

...

Slowly, you curl in on yourself. The sound of your own sobbing reaches your ears, and you do the best you can to keep it quiet. You bury your face in your pillow, letting it dry your tears and silence your sniffling cries as your thoughts begin to race all over again.

 _How can human beings be so cruel to each other?_  
_How could any living person do something so horrible and LAUGH about it?_  
_How could such atrocious acts be so common in human society that it necessitates the existence of people like you to investigate-_

A pair of arms wraps tightly around you, making you jump.

"... Gotcha."

You hear a familiar sleepy voice snickering quietly in your ear, and you give him an exasperated sigh as your body slowly relaxes.

"Kokichi... p-please, don’t do that... I'm really not in the mood tonight."

The arms loosen a bit, but not completely. The two of you lay there in silence for a while, and you let yourself relax into the welcoming warmth of his embrace... until you hear him ask the dreaded question.

"C’mon, don't leave me hanging here... how was work?"

You close your eyes tight and sigh heavily. Right now, you want nothing more than to put it out of your mind for good... but nonetheless, you steel yourself and answer him flatly as it all comes rushing back.

"Life sentence… the verdict was pretty much unanimous. The guy’s locked up and out of our hair now..."

He lets out another little laugh, and says something you can't really register. Then he starts rambling on about what he did at home while you were gone: all the dishes he got cleaned, the laundry he folded, the weird stuff he watched on the news, the neat little Internet noodle recipe he tried making himself for lunch, the _hilarious_ doorbell prank he pulled on the crotchety old man in the apartment next door… he still has a way with making the most mundane everyday tasks sound like an enthralling adventure. You’re not sure how much of it actually happened and how much is just more of his embellished tall tales, but you love listening to him all the same.

You're thankful that it's too dark for him to see your tear-stained face. You content yourself with listening to his amusing little stories as you drift off to sleep. It’s better this way, you think… you can just fall asleep, put it all behind you, and wake up somewhat refreshed, ready to forget everything-

“...So what’s the matter, Shuichi? Why’re you crying…?”

_God Dammit._

You tense and mentally curse to yourself. How stupid you were to think you could slip this past _him_ of all people… still, that’s not to say you won’t try your damndest to shrug it off as painlessly as possible.

“I… I’m fine. I… today took a lot out of me, that’s all. I'm okay…”

He gives a soft ‘hmm’ and presses himself closer against you. The faint scent of dryer sheets and dish soap still lingers on his skin, a comforting respite from the stale, suffocating courtroom smell still burned in your memory.

You can tell he doesn’t buy your words for a second, even if he seems willing to drop the conversation. But that’s just another one of his tactics…and despite your resolve to put this entire mess out of your mind, you heave another long, heavy sigh as your feelings begin pouring out of you on their own.

“I… I-I just… the girl was in _high school_ , Kokichi… she was a good kid, she… she had _dreams_ , she had a _family_ and _friends_ , she had her whole _life_ ahead of her…and now it’s...”

You pause for a moment, already starting to lose your composure. You take a few deep breaths as he pulls away and lays next to you, totally silent, just listening.

“It’s… gone… just like that, it… it isn’t fair… she didn’t deserve to die like that… to go through so much pain… all so some miserable, worthless _fuck_ could get off on her suffering…”

You’re already falling apart despite your best efforts, and your hand is over your mouth to stifle your frustrated sobs. You can feel his hand on your side, running slowly up and down your arm to help calm you and keep you grounded. It helps a little… you take another shaky breath, bury your face halfway into your pillow, and continue.

“And… and I _hate_ it… I hate just having to accept something so _unfair_ … I hate thinking about how these people suffer, I hate watching their families suffer, I hate not being able to do _anything_ to help, I… I just… I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I _hate it_ …”

You trail off, breathing heavily and gripping the pillow with all of your physical strength. His hand stops, and you hear him chuckle quietly in his singsong voice.

“Jeez… still as soft as ever, Shuichi… still the softest nationally celebrated criminal investigator in the whole world...”

You don’t argue with him, because he’s right. You’ve been doing this for years, you should know better by now than to let your work affect you this deeply. This is far from the first time you’ve dealt with a crime this horrifying and depraved, and you ought to be desensitized to it by now.

...But you’re not. It still hurts so much. You can’t help but feel pain for the victims, pain for their families, and frustration at your own helplessness.

“... What’s the _point_...?”

Your thoughts spill from your mouth before you can think to stop them. Not that you really see a point in keeping them in anymore.

“I can’t stop any of these awful things from happening. By the time I get there, it’s already done. Someone’s already dead... all I can do is find out how and why. I can’t give them their lives back. I can’t take away their families’ pain. And I can’t... I can’t stop it from happening again, and again, and _again_ , so… what’s the _point_ …?”

You’re staring him square in the face now, teary-eyed and adamant, sincerely inviting him to try and argue against your statements. He stares right back, his face completely blank and unreadable in the darkness. Your eyes have somewhat adjusted to the dark by now, and seeing that blank expression only further ignites your frustration.

After what feels like agonizing ages, he finally answers you in a simple, matter-of-fact tone.

“Making bad guys pay for their crimes. Getting nutjobs off the streets. Giving people a little more peace of mind... I’m probably missing something, but I think that's the gist of it, right?”

It's exactly the kind of answer you should have expected from him, and it causes the fire of frustration inside of you to flare up even more intensely. You know he's trying to help… you know he means well. But hearing him dismiss your pain so nonchalantly when he doesn't understand, when he has _no idea_ what this line of work has put you through, what kind of _nightmarish, sickening things_ people do to each other, all the things you've witnessed that make you realize how quickly everything precious and important in your life can be _ripped away from you_ , without a moment's notice, leaving you alone and _empty_ and, and, and-

And you snap at him.

“Stop _fucking around_ , you _know_ what I mean! I can't make anything better! I can’t stop them from suffering! All I can do is make them _sit through more bullshit_!”

…

The silence that follows your outburst is jarring. You can't tell if he's angry or taken aback or _what_ he’s feeling in that moment. All you can see or hear right now is pillow fabric and your own muffled, sniveling sobs. You're just like a little kid throwing a tantrum because they're in a bad mood. It's not fair to him, it's unbecoming of you… and it only further cements the conclusion you've come to.

All of the horrific, haunting scenes you've witnessed until now begin flashing through your mind, and as you look into his eyes, you see the horrors still to come.

For just one brief moment... you see _his_ corpse before you. Those eyes, cold and lifeless, the bedroom disheveled, the sheets thrown haphazardly around, everything covered in blood, guts, gore, debris…

You know it's just in your head… but even that momentary image is enough for you.

And right there beside him, you come completely undone.

“I c… I can't do this... I can't keep doing this, Kokichi, I can’t, I can’t, I c _an’t, I_ …”

There’s no act to keep up anymore. The tears come pouring out all at once, and you collapse into his arms with your entire weight like the weak, pathetic, useless baby you really are, clinging to him for dear life. He responds without missing a beat, wrapping his arms around your trembling frame, holding you and shushing you and whispering small, meaningless words of comfort into your ear.

...

After you’ve finally exhausted yourself, you lie there with him, taking a moment to reflect on everything you’ve said.

Right now, you’re reasonably certain that you’ve made up your mind.

“I… I’m quitting. I’ve got to try and find another line of work. I can’t... keep doing this.”

“Shuichi…”

You hear him whisper your name, his hands still softly caressing your shoulders. But you’re too preoccupied with your own train of thought, too wrapped up in your swelling emotions.

“I can’t do detective work, I just _can’t do it_. I’m not strong enough, I’m not resilient enough, I still don’t know what made me think I could handle-”

_“Shuichi.”_

His soft touch turns firm in an instant as he grips your arms tightly, the sudden sharpness in his voice commanding your complete and undivided attention. You meet his stern expression with your own blank, bewildered one, unable to move or utter a sound, afraid to even blink.

He stares at you with that stern, serious gaze for a moment… and then he softens up again, closing his eyes, chuckling faintly as he presses his forehead against yours.

“... People are shit sometimes. No matter how hard you try, there are always gonna be shitty people out there, doing shitty, horrible, downright despicable things…”

He takes a moment to press a kiss to your damp cheek, then pats it gently and starts wiping the tears away.

“I know you hate it… I hate it too. I can’t _stand_ it. I think it's the stupidest fuckin’ bullshit in the world. But no matter how much we don’t like it… that's just the way things are, Shuichi…”

Another kiss, and then he pulls away from you, looking at you with one of his bright, cheery smiles.

“... And that’s where _you_ come in. When awful people do awful things, you’re there to help make it right again. You can’t fix it or make it like it never happened, but you can make sure the assholes who do those disgusting things don’t get away with it. And no matter how broken up they are about it, those relatives are all still counting on you to give them _closure_.”

You give him the same blank, stupid expression, already feeling tears well up again. You bury your face back in your pillow to suppress them.

“I… I know that… b-but-”

You feel his hands dip between your face and the pillow, turning your head up to meet his eyes. His serious expression is back. You close your eyes tightly because you don’t want to face it, but you hear his voice again.

“Look at me, Shuichi.”

It’s gentle, but strong. Slowly, you open your eyes and force yourself to look, feeling your hot tears dripping down your face, onto his hand. He doesn’t falter.

“Listen… if you really want to quit, I won’t stop you. But I don’t think that’s what you want. So I’m gonna ask you right now…”

You lay still and listen to him.

“Do you regret what you do?”

A pause, before you shake your head and answer hoarsely.

“... No.”

It’s the truth. No matter how much you search yourself... that’s the only answer you keep coming to.

“Do you feel accomplished when you can help the victim’s families understand how it all happened? When you can make it easier for them to make peace with everything...?”

You sniffle and nod after a moment’s hesitation. “Y...Yes…”

He smiles.

“Now... let’s just say it was me. If something like that ever happened to me, you’d want to have someone like you there to figure everything out, right...? So they could lock that disgusting criminal away, so you wouldn’t have to spend the _rest of your life_ agonizing over how it all might’ve ended for me?”

You close your eyes tight and choke back another ugly sob. “ _Yes_ …!”

…...

He’s silent for a while after that, waiting patiently for you to get the last of your crying out… then, when you’re calm again, he drops the serious act and starts laughing, pulling his hands away and promptly wrapping you up in a tight, full-body embrace.

You return it without hesitation, losing yourself in the warmth of the contact, melting into it and taking in every tiny little part of him. His light frame, so small and fragile compared to yours. His short, curled hair, so erratic yet so well-kept. His soft skin, with the faint scent of cleaning products still clinging to it.

It’s here… he’s here. All of him is _here_ . He’s still breathing, still alive, still with you. Still _safe_.

He’s still safe because of the efforts of people like _you_...

Tears begin to well up in your eyes again, but now they’re there for a very different reason. He seems to sense them almost immediately and hugs you tighter, reaching one hand up to ruffle your hair.

“Shuichi… you silly ol’ crybaby.”

He continues whispering sweet, stupid words like that as he holds onto you, and you feel your exhaustion from the day’s events finally starting to take its toll on you. You don’t fight it… you’re done fighting for tonight.

As your consciousness fades, you hear him mulling over what he should make for breakfast tomorrow morning. You catch something about hot sauce, but you don’t pay it any mind for now, finally comfortable and ready to fall asleep for the night.

Because now, listening to his voice… you remember why you’re still a detective.


End file.
